make it nice for you;……you shall do lots of things you will
enjoy。〃
〃No;〃 said Ursula; stubbornly and dully。 〃No; I dont want to
go to London; I want to be by myself。〃
Winifred knew what this meant。 She knew that Ursula was
beginning to reject her。 The fine; unquenchable flame of the
younger girl would consent no more to mingle with the perverted
life of the elder woman。 Winifred knew it would e。 But she
too was proud。 At the bottom of her was a black pit of despair。
She knew perfectly well that Ursula would cast her off。
And that seemed like the end of her life。 But she was too
hopeless to rage。 Wisely; economizing what was left of Ursulas
love; she went away to London; leaving the beloved girl
alone。
And after a fortnight; Ursulas letters became tender again;
loving。 Her Uncle Tom had invited her to go and stay with him。
He was managing a big; new colliery in Yorkshire。 Would Winifred
e too?
For now Ursula was imagining marriage for Winifred。 She
wanted her to marry her Uncle Tom。 Winifred knew this。 She said
she would e to Wiggiston。 She would now let fate do as it
liked with her; since there was nothing remaining to be done。
Tom Brangwen also saw Ursulas intention。 He too was at the end
of his desires。 He had done the things he had wanted to。 They
had all ended in a disintegrated lifelessness of soul; which he
hid under an utterly tolerant good…humour。 He no longer cared
about anything on earth; neither man nor woman; nor God nor
humanity。 He had e to a stability of nullification。 He did
not care any more; neither about his body nor about his soul。
Only he would preserve intact his own life。 Only the simple;
superficial fact of living persisted。 He was still healthy。 He
lived。 Therefore he would fill each moment。 That had always been
his creed。 It was not instinctive easiness: it was the
inevitable oute of his nature。 When he was in the absolute
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